Cass Jackson The Lightning Thief
by BlindingNight14
Summary: UP FOR ADOPTION
1. Chapter 1

**She has waist length wavy hair that in tight ponytail on top of her head- it has bright purple highlights in it . Smooth pale skin. Heart shaped face. Full lips. Cat shaped like eyes with thick black eyelashes. Two studs on both ears. Five different necklaces, three bracelets one on arm and a long charm bracelet circling up the other. Her nails were cat like and sharp and died a bright blue. Sea green eyes with thousands of different shades of blues, slivers, and greens. Curvy bit a bit muscular. Body of a surfer or skater. She always wear combat boots and her charm bracelet where ever she goes.**

**Name: Cassandra 'Cass' Hestia Jackson**

* * *

Chapter 1 I Accidentally Murder My Math Teacher

You rarely hear of a _girl_ being the _hero_ in anything. It was always the guy who would save the world. It was always the guy who has the cool super powers. It was always the guy who saved and got the girl. But when it came to the girl, she was always waiting for the guy to save _her_... But this story the girl saved the world. It was the girl who had cool super powers. It was the girl who saved the world (Maybe even more), and got the guy... Okay. Some of the time.

I am proud of to say I'm okay with how everything turn out: honestly it made me who I am today. Even through everything I been through was terrifying and scaring I'm just grateful that me and everyone I love are alive. And trust me, if you ask my friends who had been there through this crazy ride they would agreed with me. Hell! Maybe anyone who lived through it would.

Although before I can go on and tell my story, I have to give you a warning. If you feel as though you recognize yourself in this story-like something inside you is stirring- stop reading immediately, I beg of you. You might be one of us, that's never a good thing. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time for _them _to know and come hunting you down till your nothing.

Please don't take this warning as a joke.

* * *

My name is Cass Jackson. Truthfully it's Cassandra Hestia Jackson. And the last person to say my full name got a mouth full of dirt.

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York- like police trouble.

Am I a troubled kid?

Hell to the yes! And I'm proud of it! Oh and I should give a personally warning by me, I have got a long strain of words.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan - twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know - it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep. He always seem to have this need to have everyone in high sprits and laughing and just down right having a great time.

I just hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

Oh boy. I was dead wrong.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, I was arming at some birds that kept following me, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim- Although I don't know why, sharks are cute!. The time before that, at my gymnastics arts school we went to The Big Apple for a carnival and I sort of let the lions out of there cage before the show. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

This trip, I was determined to have perfect.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, a fucking stupid freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his him-I have to deal with the boys checking out my legs everyday. He walks funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip. Anything, even if it's not me. Not my fault if I happened to be there bitch.

"I'm goanna ripe out her lugs then stuff them down her throat." I mumbled wanting to pouch her lights out right then. Oh for warning. Never. Ever mess with my friends and love ones.

Grover tried to calm me drown. "Cass wait. It's ok. I like peanut butter."

"Grover, the last time you ate peanut butter it was brown clubby glue and while you were trying to get it out of your mouth you bumped it a teacher and sent her down three cases of stairs." I reminded him. His ears turn pink. "Hey, Easter Bunny ears." I joked pointed at them.

He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it. Come and get it bitch!" I started to get up, but Grover pulled me back to my seat by the back of my stupid school uniform vest.

"You're already on probation." He reminded me as I struggled against his arms as he try to hold me down.

"I don't care! I'm going to feed that asshole to a shark." I threated glaring daggers at said 'asshole'.

Grover gives me a look. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Looking back on it, I wish I'd decked Bitchy Nancy right then and there. In-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the fucking hell I was about to get myself into.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour. He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoed galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery. Grover and I stood in the back of the class listening to music on my iPod. It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for five thousand, six thousand years, hell maybe more.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who _always_ wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She did looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. That's what happened when you work with mental case kids.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month. Man, do I hate her.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me shock at first before he became real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

I saw Mrs. Dodds glaring at me when I told a kid to shut it. I smiled innocently at her and turned away with a smirk on my face. Take that Bitch.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. About the three main gods. The three brothers- Hades, Zeus, and Poseidon.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and screamed at her, "Will you shut up!"

All eyes turn to me from everyone around, even people who weren't in our group. The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Miss. Jackson," he said turning his wheelchair around to face me, "did you have a comment?"

My face was totally red. I said "no, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "perhaps you'll tell us what this is about?"

I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief, because I actually recognized it. "that's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "and why did he eat his children?"

"Well" I started "Kronos was the king Titan, who got a prophecy that said that his children -the gods- were going to overthrow him. So he ate them but Rhea hid Zeus and gave him a rock to eat instead. When Zeus was older he made a mixture of mustard and wine and Kronos ate it, causing him to throw up his children. Then they had a war that lasted for over 10 years but the gods won."

Collective groans came from most of the girls in the class while the boys starting whispering to their friends about how 'wicked' or 'cool' it must have been to see something like that. For real, what is wrong with guys these days? Then the jerks of the school started whispering.

"-teacher's pet-"

"-Geek-"

"-Loser-"

I blocked it. I blocked their words, I blocked the hurt, just like I block everything that could hurt my emotions. Being me, I'm never been proud of myself but of things I have or can do but not me. And people saying things about me or towards me always makes me rethink. Just block it, I thought smiling.

Behind me, Nancy mumbled to a friend, "like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job application, 'please explain why Kronos ate his kids?'"

"and why, Miss. Jackson to paraphrase Miss. Bonofit's question, does this matter in real life?"

"busted," Grover muttered.

"shut up," Nancy hissed, her face was even redder then her hair, if that was possible.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

"I see" Mr. Brunner looked upstanding and smiled kindly at me. "well, half credit, Miss. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

Grover and I followed the behind everyone else, making sure we wouldn't get in the way of the boys who kept trying to messing around with each other, pushing their friends into the walls and laughing like pigs. Men.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner called out, "Miss. Jackson." I knew that was coming.

I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "If this is about me shouting when you were speaking, I'm really sorry. Nancy was talking about–" Mr. Brunner held up a hand to stop me from talking.

"I forgive you for that. But it wasn't the reason why I had called you back."

"Then what is it?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go-intense brown eyes that could've been thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me.

"About the titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"what you lean from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Cass Jackson." I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: what ho! And challenged us, sword point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C- in my life. No – he didn't expect me to be as _good_; he expect me to be _better_. And I just a couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long look at the steel, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

* * *

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing with clouds blacker then I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had have massive snow storms, flooding, wild fires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed to notice but me. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

I notice the boys of the class staring at my thighs as my skirt moved up when I sat. I flipped them off. Boys have tried asking me out all year but they all get the same answer. Considering they were either staring at my chest, my thighs, or my ass, I turned them all down cold up till the point I'm yelling at them to get lost.

"Detention?" Grover asked

"Nah," I said looking at him in shock. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean-I'm not a genius."

"Lucky. What did he want to talk about then?"

I rolled my eyes blowing a died purple strain of hair from my face. "About trying harder and that he expecting great things from me," Grover looked at me with a knowing look as though he didn't expect anything less. I open my mouth to question him when he toss me his apple. Out of reflex I caught it before it moved an inch.

"You can have it. I'm not really hungry." Shrugging I thanked him and bit into the apple, not really bothering to think about the way he had looked at me. It seem he and Mr. Burnner know something that I don't.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I was about to unwrap my cheese and ham (with lettuce) sandwich when Nancy appeared in front of me with her sultry, ugly friends- I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists- and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lab

I tried to keep calm and do what the school's councilor had told me to do whenever I got mad, take deep breaths and cursed out in my head. I looked her in the eyes and said "Take your goddam sandwiches and shove them up your fucking ass because we don't want them, you fag."

"Whatever Jackson." Nancy said, "Why do you hang out with a fucking loser like him, anyway?" That's it. It's one thing massing with, it's an whole other massing with my friend.

I glared up at her when suddenly everything turned a bright red to me. I was so anger, I don't know what really happened. My felt my hand twitching when it happened.

All I remembered, was that one minute Nancy was in front of us smirking like an dumbass, then a wave like sound and the next she was on her butt in the middle of the fountain screaming her head off. But I could barely hear her. I was in shock, how could that have happened so fast? What _did_ happened? My ears started picking up bits of other conversations that the rest of the class were having as they stared at the fountain wide eyed.

Some of the kids were whispering. "did you see-"

"-the water-"

"- it like grabbed her-"

What were they talking about... I looked up and give a small yelp.

Mrs. Dodds had materialized next to us. I didn't know what they were talking about or what happened. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new t-shirt at the museum gift shop, extra. Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey-"

"I know," I grumbled. "a month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds sanpped.

"Wait!" Grover yelped putting himself between me and Mrs. Dodds. "I'm the one who pushed Nancy, not Cassie. Why would –"

I stared at him. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death. She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin started to trembled.

"I don't thing so, Mr. Underwood." She said.

"but she didn't-"

"you-_will_-stay-here."

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay, Grover." I waved him off, "thanks for trying." He looked ready to protest. "Grover it's fine, really. Thanks for trying though." I whispered the last part to him. Grover looked like he was about to protest- again-, but Mrs. Dodds bet him to it.

"Honey," she hissed at me. "_Now."_

Nancy smirked.

I gave her my watch-your-back-cause-I'm-every-where-and-ready-to-end-your-life glare. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

But I wasn't so sure.

I went after Mrs. Dodds, walking as quickly as I could towards the entrance_. _Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looked pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted him to notice what was going on, but he was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds was had disappeared yet again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently that wasn't the plan.

I followed her deeper into the museum. Looking around I realized that she wasn't at the top of the stairs, like she had been moments before. Figuring she had already gone into the museum, I stepped inside. Not seeing her nearby I called out

"Mrs. Dodds?" I heard a pair of flapping wings around. Gasping I turn around not seeing anything.

"Did you really think you'd get away with it?" I looked around confused still no seeing her anywhere. Her voice was heavy and was she.. growling?

"I'm sorry. It was an accident. I don't even remember touching Nancy-"

"Don't play dumb with me honey," I jumped, turning around to see her. But what got to me was that she wasn't there a moment before. She was standing in front of one of the statues, playing with the sleeves of her jacket, "That act you put on every day may fool everyone else, but it doesn't fool me." Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it... It frighten me.

"Act? Mrs. Dodds, what're you talking about?"

She turn around quickly to face me, her mouth turned up into a snarl. "Where is it?" I shook my head confused,

"Wh-what are you talking about?" I asked starting to back away seeing on how she stared at me with hunger.

"Tell me where it is" She said walked back a little, "and I'll make your death go by quicker. But if you don't-"

"Wait! _Death_?" I stared at her before looking around. Was this some kind of joke?

"Where is it?" She snapped.

"What are you talking about!"

"Times up!" Then things got weird.

Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched and sharpen out, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of tallow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

"Oh shit!" I turned around and started to run towards the exit, only to find my way blocked by the thing that used to be Mrs. Dodds. "Aww!" I turned around and started running towards the other exit.

"Cass!" I looked behind me and was surprised to see my Latin teacher wheeling himself into the room as fast as he could. When he saw that he had my attention he threw something into the air, and it was only as it got closer to me I realized it was a ring. With my skills in baseball I caught it. But when I caught the ring, it had changed into a three foot long bronze sword. It was Mr. Brunner's sword, which he always used on tournament day.

I turn towards that _thing_ only to see it had lunch it self at me, talons ready, pointing straight at my chest. On I don't think so. Glaring I felt something stir inside me. Everything seem to slow down as I took everything in. For some reason I knew what to do, I swung the sword in front of me at an angle and watched as a huge gash appeared at her side. _Hissss._

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

My eyes felt watery as I stood their unable to move. All I could so was stare at the pile of dust that was once Mrs. Dodds. That's when I suddenly realized that the sword wasn't in my hand. I looked down and was surprised to see that the sword was now a ring that tightly warped around my finger like it was made to fit. I try pulling it off but with all my strength it wouldn't bung. Mr. Brunner was gone. No one but I was in the room.

I stared at the ring on my finger. I felt as if in know what it was. The ring was a normal golden color ring but it had bright green deigns in it. No matter how hard I try, I couldn't make them out. Shaking my head, I ran from the room all the way towards the enters were I could see everyone.

It had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said. "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

"I didn't get in trouble, you asshole" I walked pass her towards Grover when I heard her speak towards me again.

"Oh to bad. I had hoped Miss. Kerr finally saw you were an annoying bitch." Okay. That's the second time she said that name, who the heck is Mrs. Kerr? I turned back around to face her.

"Nancy really? There isn't a Miss. Kerr in the school. So you can stop making up things." Nancy stared at me before cackling.

"Who know being dyslexic could make you an idiot!" She turned and walked away from me, still cackling.

Who the heck is Miss. Kerr? Last I checked, Mrs. Dodds was the one I had followed, not a Miss Kerr.

I went back to my seat. I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said. "Who?"

But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at me, so I thought he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man." I said pouching his should making him wince. "This is like… Selene Gomez and Justin Braver -fucked upped business here." Grover started at amused that I said that before looking away.

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved.

I went up to him.

"Mr. Brunner?" I asked as I approached. He looked up and smiled when he saw me walking over to him

"Yes Miss. Jackson, how can I help you?"

"Way's Mrs. Dodds."

He stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

I stared at him in disbelieve. "What? Yes I'm fine..." Suddenly everything started blurring before I could see again. "I think. Sorry for wasting your time."

"Not at all my dear girl, maybe you should go back to Grover and rest until we have to go back in." I nodded at him. I turned around and started to head back over to where Grover was sitting. I hadn't walked ten steps before I remembered that I still had his ring. Mrs. Dodds or no Mrs. Dodds, he had still given it to me. And now it was burning against my skin resting on my finger fitting perfectly and wouldn't come off.

I sat by Grover again. I sighed and leant back onto my arms as far as I could. I still found it odd that no one noticed the upcoming storm, it was strange, and it _felt _strange... Felt? What?

"Okay. Grover hear me out. It might just be me," I spoke still looking up at the clouds. A strange feeling came over me and I felt something shift inside me once again. "But the air feels strange. Like, something's happening..." I looked to Grover and saw he had wide and fearful eyes and was looking at me.

"Why'd you say that?"

"I don't know." I lean back on my back a some rain drops fall on my face. I had to smile as a feeling of joy hit me just like that. "But the storm clouds appear out of nowhere, and yet no one notices them." I bit the inside of my cheek in thought.

"Maybe they don't care."

"I guess." I wasn't sold on it. And I get this odd reason that Grover's keeping something from me, something very important. He had seemed scared when I had mentioned the weather. I looked back over at him, he was staring at the sky in fear and anger. As if someone was watching him. A chill crawled up my spine just with that thought.

"You okay G-man?"

"I'm fine. Come on." He graphed my hand and pulled me up before I could say anything. "We're leaving."

As he started pulling me towards the building I got this odd feeling that what happened inside was goanna come back to bit me.

* * *

**What did you guys think? Love it. Hate it. I know it wasn't the best as it could have been but I got it down.**


	2. Chapter 2

**She has waist length wavy hair that in tight ponytail on top of her head- it has bright purple highlights in it . Smooth pale skin. Heart shaped face. Full lips. Cat shaped like eyes with thick black eyelashes. Two studs on both ears. Five different necklaces, three bracelets one on arm and a long charm bracelet circling up the other. Her nails were cat like and sharp and died a bright blue. Sea green eyes with thousands of different shades of blues, slivers, and greens. Curvy bit a bit muscular. Body of a surfer or skater. She always wear combat boots and her charm bracelet where ever she goes.**

**Name: Cassandra 'Cass' Hestia Jackson**

* * *

Chapter 2 Three old Ladies and the Socks of Death

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This fucking 24/7 hallucination was more than I could take. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. the student acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr- a perky blonde woman whom I never seen in my life until she got on out bus at the end of the field trip- had been out pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring the evil Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho then laugh and make fun of my disorders saying I gone crazy cause of them.

It got so I almost believed them- Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was lying.

Something was going on. Something _had _happened at the museum. And I didn't just imaged it.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in cold sweat or my screaming bloody murder.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood one bet. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room, I had to get a new room and it happened to be Nancy's! A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual numbers of small planes that had gone sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year. I'll fell sorry for their love ones and everyone that cared for them. That had to be a huge scare.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs in a heartbeat. I got into fights with Nancy Bobofit everyday. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was to last and stupid to study for spelling test- in front over everyone who laughed- I snapped. I called him _canem._ **(AN: It means Bitch)**I wasn't sure were the Latin came from or what it meant but it sounded good.

The headmaster sent my mother a strongly worded letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our tiny apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties.

And yet… there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window that me and Grover love, to just listen to every afternoon after class, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees in the morning. I'd miss Grover, who'd had been like a brother to me, even if he was a little strange. I worried how he'd survive next year without me. I'd miss Latin class, too- Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well. He was the only teacher that ever thought I could do it...

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. Others? I always ended up throwing my books at the walls whenever I got frustrated that none of the words made sense to me. The teachers were trying their best to help me, but I could tell that even they were getting frustrated at what little progress I had managed to do.

I swear my dyslexia was getting worse. The more I concentrate on a word, or even a sentence, the more I couldn't understand it. I started getting headaches a lot whenever I tried to make sense of a word for more than one minute, which was kind of why I had started throwing books at the walls.

I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why but I'd started to believe him.

* * *

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the _Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology _across my dorm room and out the open door into the hallway with a 'thud'. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt, trying not to wake my room-mate who sadly was Nancy. Hopefully they'll have my room fix soon.

I groaned, this was going nowhere. I was about to head to bed when I thought if something. I know it was late, but maybe I could ask Mr. Brunner for some help. It was better than nothing, right?

I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book and slipped on my slippers and rushed out the open door, making sure that I wouldn't wake Nancy.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before, okay I have but I just end up cry on how they started massing with me, I was only five come on! Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, slightly open, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor. Maybe I wouldn't be disturbing any one tonight after all. I smiled at the thought, okay let's do this.

I was three steps from knocking on the door when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner was asking a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's asked. ""... worried about Cassie, sir... She might be the one they're looking for..."

I froze.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper on my friends, but I dare you try not listening if your best friend talking about you to an adult behind your very back.

I inched closer.

"It's possible, we can't be sure just yet." Okay so it was Mr. Brunner.

"I don't think it's save for her to be alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school, Chiron! They don't just appear and attack normal half-bloods. She has to be the one!" Did he just say Chiron? And what was that about half-bloods? And what's with me being 'the one'? It's starting to freak me out.

"I know. And that worries me, but I can only do so much to help her."

"You could at least try. Please, Chiron"

"Grover, I know she's your friend, but-"

"No not a friend, sir" I frown Grover doesn't want me as a friend? "She's my Beast Friend. I just want to know if she's safe."

"We would only make matters worse by rushing her," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the girl to mature more."

"Chiron with all due respect, Cassie is the most mature person I have ever meet at this age, even if she acts out sometimes. She _is_ ready, the summer solstice dead-line-"

"Will have to be resolved without her, Grover. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she still can."

"Sir, she _saw_ her…"

"Her imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince her of that."

"Sir, I… I cant fail in my duties again," Grover's voice chocked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she truly was. Now let's worry about keeping Alex alive until next fall-"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud. I froze. The conversation inside the room stopped suddenly. A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow. I looked around franticly and was lucky enough to see closet slightly opening like it is everyday. I rushed towards it and hide inside of it.

I heard the door open the rest of the way, but was too scared of being caught to see who had decided to have a look down the hallway. A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass of the door, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn… never mind."

"Go back to the dorm." Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

"Don't remind me."

The door slammed close and I heard Grover walked up the stairs a little later. I sighed in relief and slipped out of my hiding place. I then made my way up to my dorm to find Nancy fast asleep and no Grover in sight.

As I was getting ready for bed, I went back over the conversation I had just heard. Half-Blood? Chiron? Kindly Ones? Something really strange was going on here. And I wasn't going to rest until I found out what. But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my beck. They thought I was in some kind of danger.

* * *

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the four-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about me eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Cass," Mr. Brunner said as everyone began to leave but Grover who waited outside the door with a smirking Nancy. He had already graded the first ten when he called me back, so I know it was about my grade. "I am extremely disappointed with you."

"I'm so sorry sir. I tried my hardest, I really did." He smiled sadly at me.

"I believe you. But sometimes, doing our hardest won't always be enough in the real world." I looked down at his desk. I felt like I had let down Mr. Brunner more then ever. He was the _only_ teacher who hadn't given up on me. It was like he understood what I was going through. He helped me whenever I didn't understand something in class. He believed that I could pass my exams. Believed I could be smart person... not like that'll ever happened.

I looked into his eyes and once again I thought how he could have lived through thousands of years. His eyes held so much wisdom; it was like looking into the eyes of someone who had seen years of war and death. It was unnerving whenever he looked at you as through he knew exactly what you were thinking. Something made me think, what give he seen death before his eyes. Why does he seem that way. I always have the need to get into someone's head to understand them, but Mr. Brunner... it was impossible. I tired hundreds of times.

"What else could I have done?" I asked knowing he'll say something wise like always.

"Persevere."

"Then I swear that I'll keep going, no matter what, I'm not a quitter." Mr. Brunner smiled sadly at me and leaned over his desk as much as being in a wheel chair could allow.

"Never make a promise that you cannot keep, my dear." He sat back in his chair and indicated with his towards the door. Why can't I keep my promise? Then his tone changed. "Cass, don't discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's… for the best."

His voice was kind but the words still embarrassed and upset me. even though he was speaking quietly, I know Grover and Nancy could hear. I saw over his shoulder Nancy was making sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips, while Grover looked pained. I flipped her off and Grover smiled at me.

I nod. "Okay, sir."

"I mean," he looked out he window then back at me, as if trying to find the right words. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

My eyes watered.

Here was my favorite teacher, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

I saw Nancy laughing to herself and Grover shaking his head.

"Right," I said, getting my stuff. Run. Run away from the problems. Block them. Block them like you always do.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying t say it… you're not normal, Cass. That's nothing to be-"

That's it!

"Thanks." I blurted. Ignored them. Block them out. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me."

"Cass-"

But I was through the door with Grover behind me screaming my name and Nancy laughing like the bitch that she is. I felt the tears run down my face I slammed the doors open at the end of the hallway and went up the stair case.

Block them. Block them like always. Run away from the problems.

* * *

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase. Slamming it onto my fingers.

The other kids were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. Since nearly half of the school had rich parents, it was no surprise that most people would be taking a month long cruise around the Caribbean, or spending the summer months at a summer home that their parents owned in Venice, Italy. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of nobodies.

I had felt embarrassed when someone had asked me what I would be doing for the summer, especially after boasting about their parents had promised that they would be spending time in Paris so that she could attend a summer modeling class. I said I would be heading home and just doing anything during my freed time.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

They then nod and went back to their conversation as if I didn't existed. Like always.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the sisal, watching the other passenger. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased or beat up. But here, there was nobody to tease or hit him on the Greyhound.

"We're finally free!" I joked but my smiled faded when I saw he wasn't smiling or anything. What's up with him. "Yo, G-Man. What's wrong?"

He looked at me then away. "What if this is the last time we'll see each other."

"Grover, I promise that we'll see each other again." I said laying a comfort hand on his shoulder.

"How can be sure. Your my best friend." He said. "Just thinking that we'll never going to hang out and pull a prank on our roommates it's just..." he trilled off as I smiled sadly.

"Because I just know." He smiled at me, I pouched his shoulder.

"Hey!"

"Plus, it's really hard to get ride of me."

During the rest of the bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha - what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh ... not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Cassie... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers ..."

"Grover - "

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and ..."

"Grover! You're a really, really bad liar."

His ears turn that color pink that made me nicknamed him the Easter Bunny.

There was a huge grinding noise under out feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to go off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road - no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen.

I mean these forsaken socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me.

I felt the ring on my finger heat up, almost like a warning. I almost forgot about it. I never been able to get it off, no matter how hard I try.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man - "

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Cass. Not funny at all."

I shrugged. "I'm goanna go get some cherries. Be right back."

"Wait, Cass!"

But I was already walking to them. The ladies watched me as I get a bag and loaded half of it with cherries. I was looking at what else they had when out of the corner of my eye I saw the old lady in the middle take out a huge pair of scissors- gold and sliver, long bladed, like shears.

I don't know why, but out of instinct my hand shot out as she try to cut the yarn and stole it from her hands. I was even shock by my action.

The ladies looked at me with thoughtful faces.

"So that is your chose?" the one on the left asked.

"Done." Said the one on the right.

"The cherries will be eight dollars, dearie." The one in the middle said holding her hand out.

What? I hand her the money and like that… everything was gone. There was no fruit stand, no old ladies. Only my charm bracelet had a charm on it. Shears- gold and sliver, shears chain to the bracelet dangling in the air.

Unsure what to do or to think as I thought about it, I walked back to Grover with the cherries.

He was breathing heavy and staring at me in awe.

"What?" I asked. "Grover, you like you saw a ghost."

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the fucking flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like ... Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she was about to cut the yarn when I stop her."

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost - older.

He said, "You saw her about to snap the cord."

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "Not her. Not again. Anyone but her. Not like last time."

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. But why her through."

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to scare me. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me."

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover -the yarn. If she did snap it... Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

* * *

**What did you guys think? Love it. Hate it. I know it wasn't the best as it could have been but I got it down.**


	3. Chapter 3

**She has waist length wavy hair that in tight ponytail on top of her head- it has bright purple highlights in it . Smooth pale skin. Heart shaped face. Full lips. Cat shaped like eyes with thick black eyelashes. Two studs on both ears. Five different necklaces, three bracelets one on arm and a long charm bracelet circling up the other. Her nails were cat like and sharp and died a bright blue. Sea green eyes with thousands of different shades of blues, slivers, and greens. Curvy bit a bit muscular. Body of a surfer or skater. She always wear combat boots and her charm bracelet where ever she goes.**

**Name: Cassandra 'Cass' Hestia Jackson**

* * *

Chapter 3 Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants

It felt strange to be back in New York and it felt welcoming, all at the same time. I smiled to myself, it's good to be home.

"Good to be back?" Grover asked, I nodded.

"Like you wouldn't believe." But there was this odd chill in the air, as if we were being watch. I my head towards the left and right making sure we weren't.

"Hey, I need to go to the bathroom. Wait for me, then I'll take you home." Was he seriously ordering me to wait for him? Either way, I nodded at him.

"No problem." I lied.

Okay. I know what I'm a about to do is really wrong and something that'll upset him but I need to. But Grover was freaking me out, looking at me like I was a dead man, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to he sixth grade?"

Instead of waiting for him, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.

"East One Hundred and Fourth and Fifth Avenue" I told the driver.

I was upset, and when I'm upset. I normally found myself doing irrational things, like ditching Grover for example. But you learn from your mistakes, right?

* * *

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the whole world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a fucking plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, which I'm proud of sense she knows what she wants, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma. but my mother always say's, 'no matter how dark and lonely it may seem, there's always that spark of hope inside you. Everyone has it. No matter what happened hold onto that spark'. That was the only things that kept her going.

The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad.

I don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. My mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad.

See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, a little before I was born, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I'm not an easy kid. Trust me.

We don't have any picture of him, but according to her, I look just like him. She always told me that I have the same black hair as him (But wavy like her), and the same sea green eyes that most people don't see. I was an exact replicate of him. But of cause I look more girlish, if you don't caught my clothes which were always ripped up jeans and baggy tops.

Although when I was real little, my mother get married to a man that I wanted to rot in hell. Gabe Ugliano, or smelly Gabe as I had started to call him when I was six. Personally he smells worse then a sewer and I should know. I never thought anyone could smell that bad but I guess some in the whole world had to at some point.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along ... well, when I came home is a good example.

Sense we had a hard time with money, we had to fine a place that could reach our max. It did it. It's a rusty, crappy building with open stair ways and hallways. Sometimes we fine rats right outside our doors. The staircases were all metal and rusted to the core. The chip paint on the walls were always wearing thin and gangers were always write and drew on them with spray-paint. My apartment was on the very top of the building right were the fir escape ended.

I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work already. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with, god-for-shaken, his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom?"

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?"

This was how he always treated me. It was never 'Welcome back.' 'Good to see you.' 'How has your life been the last six months?'. That's just how Gabe is, always about money, and beer, and money, and beer. Nothing more.

Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tusk less walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something.

He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "Bonding secret." Meaning, if I told my mom, he would beat me shit less. Not like her never done that before.

I winced remembering the last time I was inhere. That scar on the side of my back.

"I don't have any." I lied walking past him and his 'friends'. Suddenly I felt the back of my ponytail be pulled harshly. "Aww!" My face was slammed on to the table. Looking up I glared at Gabe.

Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"Don't lie to lassie. You took a taxi from the bus station most likely." he said. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. I'll hand it over or else, girlie." He started pushing my head harder against the table.

"Fine you baster." I whispered and pulled a ward of cash out and toss it onto the table. He let go of me, pushing me towards the wall with a thud. "Hope you loss." With that I walked off.

"I'll watch your tongue." He called after me.

"Fuck you!" I yelled.

I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer. But that's not the worse.

Old food boxes covered the floor and my bed, some still had some of the junk left in them, but know they had turned green and furry and empty crushed beer cans and glass ones were littered over every surface in sight. I made my way towards the window, hoping to the fresh air would get rid of the stale smell of beer and gasoline. This would take forever to clean. I signed putting my head on my fist looking out towards the lighten city.

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds or that feeling with the yarn and sheers.

But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic - how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone - something - was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.

I raised my hand and looked at my finger. It still hold the ring but the only differed about it was there wasn't green in it but blood red. The design was more clear. It was an eye.

Suddenly someone knocked on my door making me jump. Thinking it was Gabe that came to punished me, I froze. Block, ignored your feelings

"Cassie..." A huge smiled broken across my face once I heard that voice. It was my mother. I turn about to see her opening the door. "Hey sweetheart, how was school?" There my mom stood leaning against my door frame smiling. My fears melted away.

My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long wavy brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.

"Mom!" I rushed towards her. She opened her arms wide and pulled me into a tight hug. It felt so good to hug her again. Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central.

"I missed so much, Cassie." She pulled away and hold me at arm length smiling. "Look at you! You've grown a lot since Christmas." While that is true, I did hit a growth spurt. "And I swear you're getting even more beautiful every day." I looked down. That can't be true at all... I wish it was. I know she was just saying that, case she was happy to see me.

"I think you need an eye test done mom."

"My eyes are as clear as they can possibly be." The way she said it made me look up. She act as if their was a meaning behind it. "You do look beautiful." No matter what she said, I don't see it. I thought I was so… plain. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she started braiding my hair (After she pulled it out of it's normal started, the warrior ponytail) and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled or my fights or anything. She never seems to care about those. But was I okay? Was her baby girl doing all right?

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but I was really, really glad to see her. And she know it by my smile.

For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad- wait. That's going to far.

Until that trip to the museum ...

"What?" my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

"No, Mom."

I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me

"I have surprise for you..." My mom teased after she braid my very long hair. I was never the girlie type but I had always loved my hair braided, I never understood why through. My mom always had to do it, sense I was never any good at it.

"What is it?"

"Well I was hoping we could go away for a few days, starting today."

Okay now she had my full attention. "Where do you have in mind?" A smiled drew across my cheeks knowing what it was. Please for once let me be right.

"Well," She drew the word out longer than necessary, "How does Montauk sound?" She whispered secretly in a joking tone.

"Really?" she nodded her head. "Yes. Yes. Yes!"

"For three days, just us girls, in the same cabin." She was actting like teenager on how she squealed. I hugged her when the moment no other then Smelly Gabe.

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally - how about some bean dip!"

I gritted my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

"When do we leave?" I tired to get Gabe out of my mind. He is not going to ruin my and my mothers moment.

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last four summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money. Oh yeah. The reason for that was because he always uses _our _money on beer.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Are you def.?

I was ready to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would out of this hell zone.

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip."

Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that!"

"I knew it," I muttered. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your stepfather is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... it comes out of your clothes budget, correct?"

"Of cause, honey," my mother said. Clothes budget? Sense when did my mom or me have a clothes budget?

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if girlie here apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week. How'll you like that, huh?

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad.

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement. "Yeah, whatever," he decided. He went back to his game. Idiot.

"Thank you, Cassie," my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes - the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride - as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She kissed my forehead and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

* * *

An hour later we were ready to leave.

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. Dick. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking - and more important, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend. You think he never heard of walking or a bus or something.

"Not a scratch on this car, Girlie," he warned me as I loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

Like I'd be the one driving, baster. I was twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me.

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I was so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out.

I got in the Camaro and told my mom- who was shock- to step on it.

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheet and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

I adored the place.

We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my father.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea.

We get there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This- along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano- was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.

When it was dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy store.

As I sat by the fire, I thought back to all the times I had been here in the past. When I was younger, I used to believe that I could see faces smiling at me in the surf and waving at me, asking me to join them. At one point I think I did and I went out to far and the current had gotten me but I was able to swim back.

I had always felt more at home when I was on a beach, than I ever did anywhere before, even when we're just normally camping. I felt save here, like I was protected by the waves or the salty sea smell. Than every bad thing I thought about, could be washed away by stepping into the water, as if they were never there before. I felt as though nothing could stop me here, that I could run for days on end and never grow weak. It was an amazing feeling, through I wish we could always stay here.

Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk - my father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them.

"He was so amazing and sweet." She said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair and his green eyes." She laughed. "You too are so alike. You can tell what you're feeling by looking into your eyes, but only by those who truly know you. You both of you have tempers that could rival even the most dangerous sea storms. But you have hearts of gold, neither of you would stop at nothing to make sure that the people you love are safe."

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Cassie. He would be _so_ proud."

I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive girl with a D+ report card, kicked out of ever school she ever been to.

"How old was I?" I asked. "I mean ... when he left?"

She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Cass. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But... he knew me as a baby."

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born."

I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember ... something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen me ...

I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. He'd left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.

"Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?"

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out.

My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Cass, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said - that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," I said.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Cass." Because it is a bad things. "But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"Safe from what?"

She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me - all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head. Like a Cyclops.

Before that - a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a stupid drunk ass teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a fucking snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope. I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Cassie- the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it." Did I just hear her correctly?

"My father wanted me to go to a special school?"

"Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."

My head was spinning. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born - talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before?

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I - I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

"For good? But if it's only a summer camp ..."

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

* * *

That night I had a vivid dream.

I was in crib in a painted violet room with a men looking down over me. He had wind tossed curly black hair and sea green eyes that seem to light up the whole room. He looked to be glowing with happiness. A smile lifted across his face.

'Cassandra.' He said looking at me. Suddenly that moment was ruin when a black cold liquid started rising above my head. I was chocking on it, unable to move or see. Then it disappear. I was sitting on the sand in front of a beach with a huge storm blowing over head. I looked up to see something shocking.

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a stunning white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagles wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, No!

I woke with a start.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane."

I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice - someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looked at me in terror - not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Cass," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on - and where his legs should be ... where his legs should be ...

My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she had never used before: "_Cassandra Jackson_. Tell me _now_!"

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my leather jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go!"

Grover ran for the Camaro - but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.

Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves. My best friend was part donkey.

* * *

**What did you guys think? Love it. Hate it. I know it wasn't the best as it could have been but I got it down.**


	4. Chapter 4

**She has waist length wavy hair that in tight ponytail on top of her head- it has bright purple highlights in it . Smooth pale skin. Heart shaped face. Full lips. Cat shaped like eyes with thick black eyelashes. Two studs on both ears. Five different necklaces, three bracelets one on arm and a long charm bracelet circling up the other. Her nails were cat like and sharp and died a bright blue. Sea green eyes with thousands of different shades of blues, slivers, and greens. Curvy bit a bit muscular. Body of a surfer or skater. She always wear combat boots and her charm bracelet where ever she goes.**

**Name: Cassandra 'Cass' Hestia Jackson**

* * *

Chapter 4 I learn how to Bully fight

We tore through the night along dark country road. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas.

Every time there was a flash of lightning. I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wonder if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo- lanolin, like from wool. The smell of wet barnyard animal.

All I could think to say was, "So you and my mom… know each other."

Grover's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly." He said. "I mean we're never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

"Wait… watching- like a stalker?"

"What-no!" he stated. "Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being you friend." He added when he saw my face. "I am you friend."

"Um… what are you exactly?"

"That doesn't matter what now."

"Oh! It doesn't! My best friend is a donkey!-"

Grover glared at me "Blaa-ha-ha! Goat!"

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

"What?"

"I'm a goat from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter."

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you under hoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?"

He looked behind him griping my chin forcing me to look out. "Does _that_ look like a myth to you?"

"There's nothing out there- Holy shit!" At that moment, the monster had moved under a street lamp. Now I understand why everyone was panicking.

Straight out of the books of Greek mythology itself, was the half-man, half-bull monster. That I had through to be dead and a myth. The

causing us to go flying of the side of the road. We flipped over and dover down a hill almost rolling into boulders at the end.

.

He looked to be a huge guy like a football player with the padding- but taller. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His horns hold high with pride. And wore bright white underwear.

I turn around and toss myself to the seat. "This is not real."

"Stop telling your self that, it's not going to make a difference. Not now not ever." I looked at Grocer with wide eyes.

"How can you be so calm?"

"Oh! I'm not calm. I just know how to handle these situations." When he said that, I realized that his eyes held a lot of fear. I looked outside of the windows, hoping for some sign of where we are. But I couldn't it was pitch black so I turn towards Grover.

"Was Mrs. Dodds real?"

"Yes."

"Then why - "

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

"Who I - wait a minute, what the fuck do you mean?"

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. The Minotaur was still on our trail.

"Cassie," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety."

"Safety from what? _Who's_ after me?"

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions."

"Grover!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?"

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn't do it. I knew this wasn't a dream. I had no imagination. I could never dream up something this weird.

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want me to go."

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger."

"Because some old ladies were about to cut yarn."

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means - the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you.'"

"No I didn't. I said 'someone.'"

"You meant 'you.' As in me."

"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you."

"Children!" my mom said.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness - the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill me.

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner ... and the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. I stared blankly ahead of me.

"MOVE!"

"Cassie what you-" Grover begin but was cut off by something ramming the tail of the car. The Minotaur had us. We went flying off the side of the road. I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. We flipped over and over down a hill almost rolling into boulders at the end. There was a sickling crack and someone screamed-I think it was either me or my mother.

I groaned when the car had stopped moving and so did the world. The car was upturned in a ditch. None of the doors would have work to get out.

"Cass? Grover? Are you all right?"

I give a little laugh. "Super doper', mom."

"I'm fine. But we need to get out of here." I agreed with him and I rarely agree with anyone. "Move away from the glass!"

"Grover what are you- Shit!" I duck as he kicked his legs to the window above my head. Glass shatter everyone on top of us. He crawled out first and give a sharp hiss.

"Careful. Glass." No shit Sherlock **(AN: is that how you spell it?)**. Me and my mother followed closely behind and once we where out. We heard how close the beast was. Grover pointed to something in the distance as we started running away from the Minotaur.

"There! The tree! That's the property line!" I glance at what he was going on about. Another flash of lightning, and I saw the tree he meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill. "Come one we need to-" he trailed off looking behind us.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine - bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear - I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms - which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns - enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

"Come on!" Grover griped both mine and my mother's arms and started dragging us towards the hill.

The pine tree was still way too far - a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glanced behind me again.

The Minotaur hunched over our car, looking in the windows - or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

"I don't get it," I said. "Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," mom said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded. Sparks and pieces flow everywhere.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

Oops.

"Just keep going!" Grover screamed. We started running faster as the beast sniffed around him.

As we drew nearer to the top of the hill, I know we were almost to safety. I don't know how I knew this, I just sort of did- I knew if we past it we're safe. Then the sound of pounding stones echo in my head.

"Cassie," my mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way - directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me."

"Keeping me near you? But - "

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker. Grover looked at my mother and agreed with her.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

My mother must've been exhausted "Go, Cassie! Separate! Remember what I said."

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right - it was our only chance. Grover went right with my mother who ran past a small group of trees. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the beast bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side.

The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who Grover had gotten separated from.

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from us. Grover ran towards me and started pulling me to the tree.

"Run, Kids!" she told us. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

"Mom!"

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and she was simply ... gone.

"NO!" The Minotaur started his way towards us.

"Come on Cass, we have to -"I finally managed to get Grover off me by kicking in the... well you know.

Anger had replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs - the same rush of energy I'd gotten when Mrs. Dodds grew talons.

"Cass! Come back!" I ignored Grover cries- even through, I know I'll regret it. What am I doing? Blocking the feelings, block the world. Block it all- fuck it. I don't give a shit.

I stripped off my red rain jacket running towards him.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, bitch!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea - a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment.

"Cassie don't!"

But it didn't happen like that.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

Time slowed down.

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard like in gymnastics class, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How did I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward. Good. I pulled hard and jerked him to one side, slamming him face fist into a tree and did the same to the other side.

"Cassie!" Grover cried in shock.

The Minotaur wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. His head hit Grover sending into a tree and knocking him out. He started his way towards Grover. I thought about how he had squeezed the life out of mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. Oh no you don't! I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then- _SNAP_!

The Minotaur screamed and flung me through the air, making me flip around several times. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry and everything seem to echo, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife.

The Minotaur charged.

Without thinking, I rolled to one side as his fist hit the ground and came up kneeling. As the monster tried to turn, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

The Minotaur roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate- not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone. My mother was gone…

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was slitting open. I was weak and scared and tumbling with grief. I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover, needing my help, so I managed to haul him up, and stager down into the valley, towards the lights of a farmhouse. I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover- I wasn't going to let him go.

The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man, a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's that was so much better then my bland hair, and a teen with deep blue eyes that my heart skipped a beat to. They all looked down at me, and the girl said, "She's the one. She must be."

"Annabeth she's a wake!" Said the boy with the blue eyes. His voice I know very well I wouldn't forget. It was smooth and sprit lifting, but hold something in it.

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "She's still conscious. Bring her inside."

The boy picked me up and everything went dark.

* * *

**What did you guys think? Love it. Hate it. I know it wasn't the best as it could have been but I got it down. And for a warning. **


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